Quest for Understanding
by yamigirl121
Summary: Why is Harry so unhappy with Ginny? What is Hermione to do about her boorish husband? And why is Dobby rather tetchy? Harry/Hermione. Dobby/WW.
1. Dude, Where's My Respect?

"What the hell is this, J K Rowling?" Harry growled, bursting through the door of the rich author's underwater base and grabbing her by her spiked shoulder-armour and swinging her around to face him. "You screwed up the Canon, woman! Why'd you pair me off with Ginny!"

"Do not incur thy author's wrath, young Potter," said the author. "Thou shalt obey thy creator." She chuckled evilly. "Pairing thee with the Ginny-girl was all part of my nefarious plan."

"Don't you know how many lives you've destroyed with your wicked refusal to write the book they want instead of the book you want? And as for the casting in my movie adaption, It made me sick! You've ruined everything! EVERYTHING!"

Rowling grinned. "I laugh at thy pain, and the pain of thy fandom. Soon, the entire universe shall dance to the tune of the Great Lord Satan, my master. For the _Harry Potter_ books shall turn all to the dark path."

"You'll never succeed!" screamed Harry. "I _shall_ stop thee... I mean you... I'm going to defeat you, and then I'm going to have a pizza and get drunk and party or something. What do you say to that, woman?"

"Thou shalt never have thy pizza, for thou shalt never succeed, Potter," cackled Rowling. "Yet thou canst try. To do so, thou shalt have to find the true author of this work, for it is not I. Do thy worst. Thou hast three days."

"Why three days?"

"Because I am J. K. Rowling, and what I say goes, bitch."

"So shall it be. This is the most important task ever to face mankind, and I shall succeed!" cried Harry as he blasted off in his jetpacks. "Justice is on my side and so is Stephen King."

And then, with the sound of a fish choking on the laugh of an octopus, he vanished into wafer-thin air.


	2. Return of S King

"So you see my dilemma, Stephen King," said Harry, shaking his head. "I know you'll help me set the Harry Potter Canon straight."

"Don't be such a whiny bitch," snapped King. "Narrative needs tension. You want me to fix your problems for you? I write horror, not the _Care Bears_ or _Twilight_. Do it yourself."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "You shall regret those words. After I have dealt with Rowling, I'll trap you in the deepest pits of hell, and force you to listen to looped Ke$ha CDs _forever_."

King's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't have the guts."

"We shall see."


	3. The NOOOOODLES of Doom

"Honey, I'm home! Hey, is that pasta I smell cooking?" Ron called as he strode through the front door of their small, cosy cottage.

"Yes," said Hermione, appearing at the kitchen door. "Come and see what your slave housewife has made for you, you chauvinist pig."

Ron looked hurt. "Hey, I made dinner yesterday. You don't have to prepare any meals if you don't want to—"

"_Don't tell me what to do you pig!_" shrieked Hermione.

"Yeah, that's right," said Harry, stepping out of the fridge. "Hermione doesn't have to do what you tell her to. Hermione, go make me some tea."

"Yes, Harry dear," said Hermione, hurrying away.

"What the hell?" said Ron. "You've changed, Harry. You used to be cool."

"All you ever do is whinge, Ron. Shut your ugly mouth," said Harry. "Although to be honest, I think the writing quality's degenerated round here. Apparently J K Rowling isn't writing about us anymore – how fucked up is that? Hermione where's my tea, dammit?"

"Coming," said Hermione, hurrying towards him with steaming tea. Harry took it up, and sipped it gratefully. "Ah, there's nothing better than... did you hear that?"

A dull thump from the kitchen. Then another one. And another. Thump! Thump! Then from behind the kitchen door, the malevolent face of the refrigerator appeared. "I don't understand..." said Ron taking a step towards the fridge.

CRUNCH! The refrigerator gulped him up in one vertical bite of its white door.

"It ate Ron," gasped Harry. "Oh _neat_!"

"Serves the bastard right," said Hermione smugly.

Then the fridge door swung open, and a million tendrils of cold spaghetti reached out and wrapped their clammy, eldritch forms around the pair, pulling them into the refrigerator's hellish maw.


	4. Revenge of the HouseElf

"Ah, Harry Potter sir," said a cold, high-pitched voice as Harry and Hermione hit a hard stone floor and brushed off a few errant strands of spaghetti. "And Miss Hermione Granger."

"What do you want with us?" Hermione said.

"You is here for one reason," said the voice. Harry and Hermione glanced around in confusion. The voice echoed all around them, and they could see nothing in the darkness except each other. "Revenge!" the voice spat. "Revenge for all that you has done."

A small form stepped out of the darkness. A mechanical hand reached from under a black robe and pulled back a black hood. Harry and Hermione gasped in horror at the disfigured, misshapen form that was revealed. "Dobby is very, _very_ angry," said the house-elf, his eyes glowing red with rage, lights on the machinery that encased half his body violently flashing. "You is not going to be liking Dobby when he is angry."

"I don't understand," said Harry, gaping. "You... you were _killed_ in the seventh book."

"Yes," hissed Dobby, clenching a mechanical arm with anger. "Dobby was killed saving Harry Potter's life. But Dobby was brought back from the stygian depths of the abyss by a far greater power. Dobby's new master gave him new life, as a cyborg-zombie-house-elf. And Dobby's new master is wanting nothing but Harry Potter's own destruction..."

"Come on, Dobby," said Harry uneasily, as he and Hermione backed away from the advancing elf. "We're mates, right?"

Dobby's lip curled. "After being a character filled with appeal to the younger demographic, Dobby is being killed off in the blink of an eye! Is that justice, Harry Potter sir?"

"But Dobby," protested Harry, "Me and Hermione had nothing to do with that! Believe me, I understand how you feel."

"The Whomping Willow is the only one who understands how Dobby is feeling, Harry Potter sir," said Dobby coldly. "After Dobby cavorts in victory over your cold dead bodies, Dobby will go to her. We will be rejoicing at what Dobby has achieved, and maybe watch _Moulin Rouge_ and cry together like we so often does."

"It's not that bad," protested Harry. "You lasted longer than Cedric Diggory, and even Sirius Black!"

"Harry Potter sir and the other surviving characters is getting a whole nauseatingly cosy epilogue to themselves, and they thinks to tell Dobby he did not get it that bad? No... Dobby will kill Harry Potter sir, and gain his reward. THIS. ENDS. NOW!"

"Don't worry Hermione," Harry said to his girlfriend reassuringly, "I'm the main character, so I'm sure we can get out of this." They both raised their wands. "If nothing else, good old Deus Ex Machina should step in."

Dobby's mechanoid arm clicked mechanically as it transformed into a small cannon before their very eyes. "_Nothing_ will be saving you now, Harry Potter sir."

"Beg to differ," said a voice from behind him. The house-elf turned around just in time to see Harry Potter's smirking face, before there was a bright spell from the boy's wand, and he crumpled to the ground.

Harry and Hermione stared at Harry.

"Daniel Radcliffe," said Harry in surprise. "What the fuck are you _doing_ here?"

Harry/Radcliffe raised an eyebrow. "My name is Harry Potter as long as we're on set, mate."

Harry Potter shook his head. "On _set_? This is a _book_ you stupid git!"

Hermione paled suddenly. "Oh my... I understand now... this isn't a book at all... this is fan fiction."

Hadcliffe beamed. "Fanfic? I love that stuff!"

Harry's shoulders slumped in despair. "Oh Merlin."


End file.
